In Search Of Atomic Lily
by Benny Mohave
Summary: A girl hostage of her own deadly fury and a man of the NCR cross their paths in dangerous streets from the Mohave. Action-streaked story of murder in atomic bloom. Originaly written as a pre-war film script, now it has been adapted as a radiodrama that will lacerate your emotions!


**In Search Of Atomic Lily**

_A girl hostage of her own deadly fury and a man of the NCR cross their paths in dangerous streets from the Mohave_. _Yes, the beautiful Vera Keyes is at it again, and this time is in a jam thats gonna take a lot of fast talking and poison kiss to get out of. She's wanted by the Radiation Affairs Bureau, wanted by a murder gang and she's much wanted by Mark Berlyn. Vince Natali as Berlyn's best pal. This big threemake shocking entertainment out of Andrew Levine's amazing story of murder on New Vegas! Originaly written as a pre-war film script, now it has been adapted as a radiodrama that will lacerate your emotions!_

(Mysterious Broadcast ad)

**CHAPTER 1**

**Mohave Outpost**

**2281 12:55 **

I'm at ranger Jackson's desk in the outpost headquarters waiting for this cowboy, that called the administrator few weeks ago. I was required immediately by Dietrich in his office where he started babling about some runaway damsel who caused quite a stir during her travels around midwestern Mohave. It's my bussiness since I work for the RAB division of radiation material trafficking, a low action department basicaly filled with bored hounds, coffee injected and poor talking dumbasses who think they are pre war police agents or something when they dress and talk like them. Before you start freud thinking let me tell you that originally, I didn't pertain to such an incompetent task force. Was trown out from Military Police because of some unusual case of insubordination, so here I am, looking after some urban legend in the middle of this big nowhere.

Seems this girl caught fire while trying to close a _rad deal_ with some unknown group and got fooled by an undercover agent, now in a better place thanks to one .357 caliber bullet. Dietrich told me this story and asked me to sniff through old terminal records related with this mysterious woman. Wasn't the first time she used her spider web: Few months ago, we got a matching description. She was last seen (this meaning in a passionate love way) accompanying an old man with pockets full of caps thanks to his excavation businesses all along the arid and sleepy dessert of New Vegas who later appeared chest stabbed in his room. You have guessed. He was broke, more broke than a chem addict. The girl was never found, so was proof to incriminate her.

When I arrived to the outpost the sun was at its peak and I had to put my old hat on because couldn't stand it. There's this big statue looking at me and of course those hungry snipers from the roof aiming with scopes intimidating while chewing gum drops. Was scared like hell while the gate guy greeted and opened the screaching eroded door. Everybody was having lunch and a few remained in their desks. The door was open so I came in with my face dropping sweat in catlike silence. Inside was waiting for me that typical musty scent from darkness of a room with its windows covered in clapboards. For me it was like they were hiding from an unknown threat. The main desk was empty, so had to wait seated in recycled seats. Near me was a broken Sunset Sarsparilla machine that contributed to my impatience by its ticking and noise making logo. Some light entered through little apertures left by the unexperienced soldier in charge of a needed archictecture for an emergency situation. A low tune was coming from the radio. I heard the sound of a writing machine and some coughing. Found myself admiring these old encouraging enlistment posters in the wall when Mr Mayor appeared.

'You must be detective Remick from Rad affairs. I'm mayor Knight. We are not in working hour so its pretty quiet here as you can see. Ranger is finishing his coffee soon. We dont have any news on the Lily. During this week we were dedicated to caravan gossip, our major source and nothing has been found out appart from what youve got. I'm sorry''

Nodded. Nothing new that I wasn't expecting. I could hear boots touching old ground and smell the ego of this sort of cowboy coming from the offices. I replied.

''Its what happens when gardening. You never remember which one was the weed.''

Glasses weared his face. A rifle gave him confidence enough not to fear even a mutant. He was the boss you know, the one in charge. The wise and tough guy who wouldn't hesitate when having to shoot you and then hiding in the ethics of NCR justice. The one capable of boosting morale by stomping a radroach. Probably its this long travel but I really hated that cowboy. Didn't even know him but there was something... Something that I couldn't explain behind this pretending leader.

''Follow me pal'' He said arrogantly.

I passed the welcome board and enjoyed fresh air courtesy of hanging fans. This must smell dissapeared at the office section, now invaded by coffee leftovers smell and unclean mugs that guarded papers perhaps with secrets about the life from everyone in this hole Vegas is. He sat in his chair and lended me an ashtray. I deduced this man didn't smoke nor drink which made me untrust him even more. Examinated me behind those glasses and when done, he started with the typical superior monologue very well learned by law enforcement buddies.

''Just finished speeking with our patrol from Primm. It seems they found a _hairy_ corpse in Goodsprings.''

It wasn't extraordinary finding a corpse these times. That is why they called them _hairy_ corpses. Police divisions were created not so long ago and only to classify and investigate organized crime related not in a altruistic way, just to avoid a power struggle between _goods_ and _bads _consecuently loosing their piece of cake.

''No one gave _the_ call?'' I interrupted frowning my eyebrows.

''Nobody. They had to push over those weirdos. Looks like this guy was killed for some debt since 500 caps are missing. Our couple interrogated them looking for anger or money reasons but it seems he was a wanted fella around town. What we don't understand is why the call wasn't made. Theres a caravan parting tomorrow morning to refill them. Youll go there and use what youve learned. Sit at the bar and stay what you have to stay.''

I obviously had to ask...

''Is this... Related?''

''Yes it is, when I recieved the call, they said that the bartender told them about this chick in bussinesswear and covered with a scarf that checked in the middle of the night at a settlers rent room. While having a drink at 3am chatted with the owner and, mysteriously, asked about the stiff.''

Was this a bounty case? The only piece that wasn't matching is the girl in the scarf and the strange chit chat. We agreed to cooperate. Hands were shaken and told me a few directions about the complex. I wasn't planning staying for to long but is always good to know about the new places you visit. You never know what's behind that door.

Finished the day drinking in the backyard and playing caravan with the soldiers. Nothing more could be done around that desert. They tell stories. They make a firepit of rumors or legends, armwrestling dead hours. Wasn't really listening when something kept my attention:

''Past week a caravaneer came exhausted and broke.'' ''He was supossed to sell us supplies but he didn't have any. Told us that a guy appeared, near Bonnie Springs, and asked joining the caravan for protection. Its not the usual thing but they agreed to help. This guy gave hin NCR money so they thought it was ok with it . Strange sandstorm caught them while walking so they decided to take shelter in Devil's Gullet. Having a good night as we are right now, they start to feel dizzy and even trew up. They were poisoned man, with some kind of sleeping chem or sumething. In the middle of the night this guy stands up and kills the one guarding, he was knived in the chest and put to sleep. Rest of the crew appeared dead sleep. Had a good easy time taking the key and then, you know the rest. Empty chests''

Soldier next to him finishes

''We patrolled the area and nothing was found out. Its probably a smart thug but the gangs near are not famous for their intelligence so its more confusing. I personally think its a ghost thief. Ha ha ha.''

''I prefer believing in a ghost rather than think it was one of those Powder idiots or the Khans chimpanzees.''

A lone wanderer. Could be this girl-in-the-scarf. She was nicknamed Atomic Lily due to her interest in _gloomy_ bussinesses and the extinc flower name was given because of the difficulty while trying to find her. Some say is beautiful as this flower other say its ugly as a singing ghoul. But what is clear, is that she could be involved in pretty big mess while dealing with casual _atomic cocktails. _What if she dealt with the Khans? What if the wrong hands had a remnant of the atomic war? We all are endangered. Regarding to me I couldn't care less. If asked I would be the one pressing the button but definitely evaporating all of us with no chances of rebuild whatsoever. Seems we had that in common. Must admit I was curious to see her face. To interrogate her. But, you know, I dont want to be an example in a tale of cats and curiosity.

Goodspring was like always. I would venture myself and say that before the war must have been that way too. Formerly a water stop thanks to its Goodsprings Source, now not so famous thanks because Long 15 decadence. Typical rotten houses gave company and shadow to the settler's very big horners. No Goodsprings house lacks a little field crop that gave maize or vegetables that were strong enoguh to survive the hostile radiated post war enviorment. The first thing I was going to do is have a refreshment at the Prospector's. Hands on pockets I observed that quiet town. It seemed a normal day in the life of those poor villagers and nothing was out of the picture. Human nature and fallout times made us forgot care for others. I divised an old house by the hill holding hands with the so-important-clue gas station. A poseidon franchise. Motorcycles meant a busy bartender. An old man entered the bar when seeing me in my way to the saloon. Warning the others.

When I entered the saloon Give Me Back My Guitar was playing. Assuming my role, greated with my head to everyone. Woman in the bar was a lady in pink dress with a dirty towel compassing her silence. She looked at me calmly but I saw fear in the way she was cleaning. Didn't plan to hold anyone in the saloon but I could divise a man escaping quietly, not hiding, through the back door. Next bar questioning won't be like that. When approaching the owner, she started with that kind of nice talk bartenders have earned by serving all kinds of people.

''First goes free. Discount for our first sleuth in ages. Come sit by the counter and tell _me.'' _She said with a forced smile and condescendence.

''You know why I'm here?''

A long yes.

''He... He was a prospector. Arrived few weeks ago. We told everything to the NCR and even called back for some loopholes. I dont't understand why is it that they send another one.''

I suddenly realized that the bar turned the same very moment I started to ask into a pressure cooker about to explode. Not only because of the body thing but for a continuous jackpot of bad things done in the past. Didn't want to get caught in the middle of the disaster so I hurried myself in finishing asking the obvious, not expecting a single clue aside the learned speech that the NCR's heared over and over those days.

''I'm here because one of you mentioned the arrival of a mysterious woman at 3 am the night he was murdered. I'm trying to match cases and, of course, try to resolve what happened to this corpse.''

A man sitting near the door had a rage blush. He was going to shoot one of those arguments that tired workers say even when not related to the matter discused at the moment.

''I knew you guys at justice gang wouldn't come here if it wasn't of your interest. First appear two kids and...'' Stopped. Suddenly his bad temper dissapeared and, like if that reminded him of something, continued in low voice. ''Mister, we are not our best time in here. We don't know who the hell that man was. He probably found the wrong mine and was shot by one of those Khans or... Powder gangers. So you guys came in here after we have called many times the Rangers and outposts and finally, someone comes only because of another case? We are being scavenged by crows. Tell your superiors that no goddamned prospector is more imprtant than the whole village. Only stupid promises well clean Interestate 15, Long 15, no more criminals or monsters, a new era. Just bullshit. Working all my life and get a retirement like this''

When finished, he started coughing uncontrollably and with the help of another settler he was acompanied to the toilets. I learned thanks to the bartender that his name was Easy Pete. Like a bad joke. Now people weren't looking like before. She started again and focused on the scarf-in-the-night matter.

''It was weird. That late hour, the Strip bussiness dress and not to mention the scarf. She said she was looking for her boyfriend but didn't mention any name.'' Now, I knew, Trudy, the bartender, was hiding something. ''We matched her with the guy that came in on the run few weeks ago. Helped him myself. He wasn't wounded but tired and thirsty. Asked us for a place to stay. Had no money because some bandits stole it from him. The deal arranged was this: You work the gas pump and we let you stay in there. You must have seen it, next to Doc Mitchell's house. Anyways, the man didn't mention anything of a girlfriend or why he was on the run, but, its not difficult to have and idea. We also didn't want problems so we left him working and no more questions were made just the usual. So we thought this girl must be looking for the dealer in the gas station. Nothing more.''

''I will use the room she rented. ''So...'' I said while searching through my wallet but didn't got time to finish because I was interrupted.

''Its nothing, you will stay for not much and, and...'' Said her, nervously.''We must know what happened. Also, I would feel safer with a man of law walking around with all these problems we've had.''

Now I had my tasks. First, I will ask everyone around, even the bighorns if possible, for a clue that helps me to find out what happened to the man in the boiler suit and his five hundred caps. Payed for my scotch, also took a bottle for decorating the room and my mind. Next, I promised to come by and have dinner by noon.

The settler opened the door and showed me the house. It was abandonned long time ago and was used as some sort of rent room for passers that needed the night and could afford a high price. Othes with less caps could enjoy the comodities of a useless wagon's body with a mat and some metal boxes. I was lucky to be on a place where police are so much required. Or maybe it was false courtesy? I'm still a foreigner and didn't even showed my credentials. Guess is a one in a million village with strong roots in newcoming people.

Wasn't a safe place for staying long but it was warm and that was what I wanted at the moment. Served scotch in an old glass and drank it. I needed charisma if I wanted to find something in that mess. Closed the door and headed again to Prospector's. In my way up I thought of a better place to start asking and avoid discreet listeners: door by door questioning. My stomach doesn't work very well when empty so decided to fullfill my promise with Trudy

The saloon was emptier than before and only one chatty settler remained at the counter.

''Hi Trudy. Ham sandwich and some coffee please.''

''Right away'' She answered while looking for ham in the fridge that was under and proceed to cut bread.

Prospector appears. Tired. Goes inside the saloon and asks for some water. Miracolously, he gets a job and a place to stay but never talks about his past days. One of those moonlit nights a woman comes by and rents a room. Around 3, asks for the pump station guy. No one sees could have seen her speaking with him but she probably knew him (but not necessarily he does). at 4 a gunshot kills him, so if it's her, she had clear what to do with him or the arguing was pretty fast of course in case she did commit the crime. But while the gas pump boy was getting heat nobody in this town out in the boonies hears nothing. Let _me _be the one that says that this is really weird.

Coffee wasn't bad and ham sandwich opened my appetite so I decided to cook the cram the settler gave me with another can of pork and beans. While searching for a can opener, I saw a note on the table written in black ink:

_Come meet me in Goodspring's abandoned schoolhouse at 12. We have to discuss things that might be of your convenience_

-Smiles


End file.
